


If Only in My Dreams

by 27dragons



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mutual Pining, Pining, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 11:09:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17140679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons
Summary: Despite presenting late, Tony's father never had any doubt that Tony would follow in his footsteps and be an Alpha. So it is with more than mild dismay that Tony finally presents shortly before exams... as an Omega. Now he's got to go home for the holidays to fend off his parents' outdated notions, including his father's attempts to arrange a Bond for him.Bucky's had a crush on Tony since they first met, more than a year ago, but he keeps finding excuses not to express his interest. When Tony admits that he's looking for an Alpha to bring home to pretend to be courting him, Bucky volunteers before he can really think about what he's doing.But it's only for a few days. Everything will be fine.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The "Choose Not To Warn" on this story is because Tony is not quite eighteen yet and thus _technically_ underage when he and Bucky have sex. However, Bucky is only two years older and so this is _not_ a significant age difference or problematic power dynamic. Still, if that bothers you, feel free to skip it. :)

Tony was at his desk working out a particularly tricky bit of coding for his final project for Comp Engineering when Rhodey came back from the library. “Hey, honeybunch,” he called. “Come and look at this for me; I think I’ve got the encryption module fixed, but it’s making the lag time just unbearable.”

He heard the muffled thump of a stack of books being dropped on Rhodey’s desk, and then smelled Rhodey’s comforting, slightly spicy beta scent an instant before Rhodey leaned over his shoulder to squint at the monitor. This close, with Tony’s face practically in Rhodey’s neck, the  scent had a slightly bitter tang to it. Maybe Rhodey hadn’t had time for a shower that morning. It wasn’t bad or strong enough to keep Tony from leaning into the warmth of Rhodey’s shoulder and chest.

“Unbearable for normal people, or unbearable for-- _whew_.” Rhodey straightened up and waved his hand in front of his face. “C’mon, Tones,” he complained. “I told you, I don’t care if you’re going to party at Sig Rho house, but you need to shower it off, after.”

“I haven’t been over to Sig Rho in like a week,” Tony said, nonplussed. And he’d showered just that morning.

“You know what I mean,” Rhodey said. “I don’t care where you found them. That much O scent is distracting, even for me.”

“I’ve been in here all day,” Tony said. “Working on this stupid encryption module.”

“C’mon, man, you don’t have to lie to me,” Rhodey sighed. “You’re _drenched_ in it. You couldn’t smell any more O if you were O yourse...” He trailed off, his eyes widening.

Tony’s hands froze on the keyboard. “No.” He said it very carefully. Very calmly. He was proud of that.

“Tones,” Rhodey started.

“ _No,_ ” Tony said again. “I can’t be omega.”

“I think you’ll find that you _can_ , actually,” Rhodey said. “Shit, did no one ever give you the presentation talk? I know you skipped a bunch of grades, but--”

“I don’t need the _presentation talk_ ,” Tony snapped. “I know about presentation. Dad’s been planning a fucking alpha initiation party since I was like fourteen, and accusing me of stalling out my presentation deliberately since I was sixteen. Which, if I’d _known_ how to stall out my presentation just to piss him off, I probably would have, to be honest, so there’s that.”

“An initiation party, seriously?” Rhodey said, momentarily diverted. “People still _do_ that? Is this a rich people thing?”

Tony shrugged. “I guess. Sometimes. Mostly just for alphas. It’s more of a networking thing than a finding-a-mate thing these days.”

“Rich people are weird,” Rhodey pronounced. It was something he’d said fairly often in the two years and change that they’d been roommates.

“When you’re rich, it’s just eccentric,” Tony responded, as usual, and for a second, he thought everything was going to be normal, that they were going to banter back and forth a bit and then settle in to look at Tony’s algorithms.

But then Rhodey spoiled it by saying, “None of which changes the fact that you’re presenting omega.”

“I can’t be omega,” Tony repeated. “My dad would flip his _shit_.”

“Okay, I know he probably _hoped_ you’d be alpha, but he has to at least _considered_ the possibility that you’d turn up as something else,” Rhodey said in his _let’s all be reasonable_ voice. “Like eighty percent of the world presents beta.”

“Eighty-two point four,” Tony mumbled, because he might have indulged in a little obsessive research last spring when he’d turned seventeen and still hadn’t presented. Most people presented within two years after the onset of puberty. “And yeah, he’s probably taken into account the possibility that I’d continue on my streak of being a disappointment and present beta. I’m one hundred percent certain it’s never even crossed his mind that I might present O.” Tony hooked the collar of his shirt and lifted it to his face.

The sweet tang of an O hit like a freight train to the face. It was particularly strong on the sides. Tony pressed his fingers behind his ears and hissed at the slightly bruised feeling. His scent glands were definitely swollen. “Fuck.”

“Maybe he’ll be proud,” Rhodey offered. “You could be the first O to get a PhD from MIT.”

Tony snorted. “Sure, if he doesn’t yank me out of school entirely.” It wasn’t exactly _uncommon_ for Os to go to college anymore, but most people still thought it was a waste of time and money. “Oh, god, what if my mom wants to send me to _finishing school_?”

Rhodey spun Tony’s chair around and gripped him by the shoulders. “Get ahold of yourself, man. Whatever your presentation is, MIT would be crazy to turn you away. So if your dad pulls the plug, then you ride out the spring semester until you turn eighteen, then reapply for admission as an adult in your own right. Don’t even try to tell me you couldn’t get at least four departments scrambling to offer you a scholarship, if you need one.”

Tony took a deep breath and anchored himself in Rhodey’s steady, confident gaze. “Right. Okay. Yeah. I can... This isn’t the worst thing that could happen, I guess.”

Rhodey snorted as he let Tony go. “It’s not a bad thing at all, Tones. You’ll see.” He smirked. “Maybe it’ll even be a good thing. Being O means you might be able to catch Barnes’ eye, after all.”

_Shit_. Tony hadn’t even thought of that. He’d had a crush on Bucky since the alpha had joined their little squad of friends last year, but Bucky had never shown any particular interest in Tony. If Tony was presenting as O and Bucky _still_ didn’t want him, what did that say about _Tony?_

***

It was a monumental effort just to put one foot in front of the other, but there was coffee at the end of the path, so Bucky kept going. He barely noticed when Steve fell in beside him.

“Final kicked your ass, huh?” Steve asked, obnoxiously cheerful.

“Fuck you.”

Steve just laughed. “I told you not to stay up all night studying.”

“Seriously, fuck you. I need coffee, and then I need to sleep for like six years.”

Steve hummed. “How many more finals to go?”

Bucky wracked his brain, trying to remember the schedule. “Just real analysis,” he finally said. “Turned my paper in for structural design this morning.”

“The end is in sight!” Steve declared, clapping Bucky on the back with a little more oomph than Bucky was quite prepared to deal with.

“Coffee,” Bucky reiterated. The student union was in sight. There would be coffee, and the cluster of tables that their little crowd of friends constantly populated whenever the union was open. Bucky was looking forward to that, too, complaining to someone about the exam who would be more sympathetic than Steve. “And slee-- Wait. What day is it?”

Steve lifted an eyebrow, because he was a judgmental bastard. “Tuesday.”

“Shit.” Bucky hitched his backpack up a little higher and shoved his fingers through his hair, trying to make it look a little less like he’d fallen asleep at his desk sometime past four in the morning and jolted awake a couple of hours later to the alarm on his phone blaring that he had exactly fifteen minutes to make it across campus for his exam.

“Expecting to see someone you want to impress, pal?” Steve sounded both smug and amused.

“Fuck. You.” Bucky held his hand up in front of his face and tested his breath. It didn’t _quite_ smell like something had died in there. Coffee would help, he promised himself. “I wasn’t this much of a dick to you.”

Steve snorted. “Oh, you were every _bit_ this much of a dick to me. I’m just paying it back now.”

Bucky caught sight of his reflection in a window and groaned.

Snickering, Steve said, “You know, you could do something really radical and surprising, like... Oh, I dunno, just spitballing here: ask him out?”

“Are you out of your mind?” Bucky glanced around to make sure no one they knew was within listening range. “If I ask Tony out _now_ , he’ll think I’m only interested because he just presented O. Which -- in case you weren’t aware of it -- would be a _dick move_.”

“Nah, that’s no problem,” Steve said, slinging an arm casually over Bucky’s shoulders and practically dragging him through the doors. “I’ll be happy to confirm for him that you’ve been mooning around uselessly for the best part of a year, now. Got his schedule memorized like a creeper and everything.”

“Fuck you, Rogers,” Bucky grumbled, ducking out from under Steve’s arm and detouring toward the coffee shop, Steve’s laughter trailing in his wake.

Bucky bought an Exam Special coffee -- the biggest cup they had, with three pumps of flavored syrup and two extra shots of espresso -- and a big slice of poundcake, too. He told himself it was because he hadn’t had time to eat before his exam, and not because he almost always ate about a third of his treats and then offered the leftovers to Tony, who had a tendency to forget to eat.

And the way Bucky’s heart jumped in his chest as he approached the group tables and saw the back of Tony’s head, hair messy and flopping around as he gesticulated wildly... That was probably just that first sip of caffeine hitting Bucky’s system. Right?

Steve had picked a chair and claimed another one for Bucky, situated so Bucky would be directly across the table from Tony. Because Steve was an asshole, but he was also a damned good friend.

“Hey, guys,” Bucky said to the general gathering as he put his stuff down and slung himself into the chair. He shot a special smile at Tony, who’d paused in the midst of whatever he’d been ranting about so everyone could greet Bucky. “What’s up?”

Tony groaned theatrically and dropped his head into his hands. Natasha looked amused, but patted him sympathetically.

“Tony was just telling us about his latest stupidity,” said Rhodey from his corner seat, where he slouched with a laptop precariously balanced on his bookbag.

That earned him a glare from Tony. “Well, I’m not going to go home and let him shove me into some kind of _arranged marriage_ , for fucksake.”

“Wait, what?” Bucky’s chest squeezed painfully.

The noise Tony made was somewhere between a moan and a growl. “Dad called me this morning. Apparently, he’s spent the last two weeks vetting bond candidates for me so I can meet them over Christmas break and, I dunno, be ready to set up housekeeping by the new year or some bullshit.”

Rhodey rolled his eyes. “It’s not quite _that_ bad,” he put in. “Though I’ll give you, it’s pretty weird.”

“So I told him it was bullshit, that this wasn’t the middle ages and I didn’t need him to _pick out an alpha for me_ like I’m one of those fluffbrained Os in those books Mom reads, and that I’m quite capable of finding my own.”

Steve was already grinning. “Should’ve stopped there, Stark.”

Bucky looked around the table, which seemed to be pretty evenly divided between amusement and sympathy. “Why? What else did you say?”

Tony whimpered into his hands. “I might’ve told him I already had an A.”

Clint outright cackled. Rhodey sighed. Natasha smiled, but kept patting Tony’s shoulder.

“Yeah, okay, possibly not the best choice, there,” Bucky had to agree. “So what’d he--”

“He told me to bring them home over Christmas break,” Tony groaned. “So now I’ve got two days to find someone who’s willing to come home with me and pretend like they’re there to fucking _court_ me.”

“You are so screwed,” Steve laughed. “What are you going to--”

“I’ll do it,” Bucky heard himself say.

Tony’s head snapped up and he stared at Bucky.

Steve was staring at him, too. Bucky could feel it. But he kept his eyes on Tony. “Sure, why not? I’m not going back to Indiana for the winter break this year anyway. And we’ve been friends for a while, so I probably already know you about as well as they could expect.”

“Buck,” Steve breathed, “I don’t know if--”

“It’ll be fine,” Bucky said, and he really did not know if his heart was racing with hope or terror. “You don’t want it to be some random _stranger_ , do you? That’d almost be worse than going along with whoever your dad picks out for you.”

“Oh, god, Bucky, I could kiss you right now,” Tony said fervently.

“Save it for the honeymoon,” Clint advised, and the others were laughing and teasing, and Bucky couldn’t quite tear his eyes away from Tony’s, and it was going to be fine.

It was all going to be fine.

Right?


	2. Chapter 2

They hadn’t changed the gate code and “forgotten” to tell him about it, so there was that. Tony waited for the gate to open and then drove forward slowly, following the driveway around the house to the parking garage.

Beside Tony, Bucky was bent over, craning his neck to look up at the house in... amazement, hopefully, and not utter disgust at how wasteful it was to have an entire city-block sized building for one small family.

The drive down from Cambridge had been nice, actually. Complaining about classes and laughing about the ridiculous things their friends had done and telling stories about growing up -- some, anyway. It wasn’t until they’d seen the skyline on the horizon and Bucky had taken a deep breath and said, “Okay, what do I need to know?” that things had gotten... awkward.

It wasn’t like Bucky hadn’t known Tony was rich. It was just that there was a distinct difference between “pick up the pizza tab for everyone a couple of times a month” rich and “actual mansion in New York City” rich. He’d gone through it once before, with Rhodey, and it had been awful. Tony had been so relieved when Rhodey had worked through it all and gone back to treating him like an exasperating kid brother.

Bucky stopped gawking at the house when they pulled into the garage, but that wasn’t much better, because now he was gawking at the _cars_. Tony wanted to park the car and then crawl up under the dashboard and die. “I. I know it’s a lot,” he said quietly. “If you’re having second thoughts, I can--”

“What?” Bucky’s head snapped around to look at him, wide-eyed. “No! Sorry! I’m just, uh. Yeah. I should stop starin’ like a rube, huh.”

“It’s okay. It’s... it’s only for a few days,” Tony promised. “They always go off on vacation the day after Christmas, so once they’re off, you can go, if you want. I mean, the dorms will still be closed, but I can put you up in a hotel, or--”

“Tony.” Bucky twisted around in his seat to face Tony. “I’m not leaving you here _alone_. And it’s going to be okay. I’ll behave, promise.”

Part of Tony wanted to bristle at that -- what, just because he’s an omega now, he can’t be trusted to take care of himself for a few days? -- but he already knew that wasn’t what Bucky had meant. He was just... on-edge. “It’s not _your_ behavior I’m worried about,” he muttered. He put his forehead on the steering wheel and took a few deep breaths, bracing himself.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand landed on his shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay,” Bucky promised, and those eyes were so serious and concerned that Tony couldn’t help but smile.

“Okay,” he said. “I can do this.”

“ _We_ can do this,” Bucky corrected, smiling a little. “Come on, let’s get the bags and go inside. Get that first introduction over with.”

“Might as well,” Tony agreed. He pushed open the car door. “Can’t wait to find out where Mom’s going to stash you. I hope to god it’s not the Cryochamber.”

“The what?” Bucky looked startled.

“Some kind of weird thing with the HVAC system,” Tony said, lifting his bag out of the trunk. “It’s freezing, year-round. I’ll get you some extra blankets and a space heater, if that’s where she’s going to put you.”

“Great,” Bucky said weakly. He slung his own duffle over his shoulder, then reached out and took the bag from Tony. “I know you can carry it yourself,” he said quickly. “But if I carry it, it helps sell it to your folks. Want to make a good impression, you know?”

That made sense, and also seemed like the sort of thing that Bucky would do if he were actually courting an O. Tony couldn’t help but be charmed into a small smile as he led the way into the house.

The advantage of driving instead of taking the train was that entering the house from the back let them skip the foyer, which had been designed to impress and intimidate. Instead, Tony brought Bucky through the kitchen door, into a wide, warm room that smelled of herbs and rich meat and sweet cookies.

As he’d hoped, Ana and Jarvis were both there. Ana was at the stove, stirring something in an enormous stock pot, while Jarvis was sitting at the kitchen table, polishing the silver, no doubt in preparation for the big Christmas Eve dinner. Both of them looked up as Tony came through the door, and their matching smiles were the only welcome Tony had actually looked forward to.

Ana put her spoon down and wiped her hands on her apron before drawing Tony into a warm embrace. “My little Tony, all grown up,” she teased. “But still too thin! I’ll have to feed you up while you’re here. And this must be your young man,” she continued before Tony could even get a word out, drawing back to look Bucky over.

Bucky flushed a little, but ducked his head in a sort of half-bow, since his hands were full of their bags. “You must be Mrs. Jarvis,” Bucky guessed, glancing at Tony for a nod of confirmation. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am. I’m Bucky Barnes.”

“ _Mrs. Jarvis_ , do you hear that, Edwin?” Ana’s eyes sparkled with merriment. “It’s only Ana, dear. Now, let Edwin take those bags up to your rooms while I get you both a little snack.”

Bucky looked like he wanted to protest as Jarvis swung the bags deftly out of his grip, but Tony smiled and reached out to take his hand, instead, hoping they looked sufficiently couple-y. Ana and Jarvis were going to be harder to fool than Tony’s parents.

But Ana just smiled fondly and shooed them toward the far end of the table, away from the silver-polishing.

“Shouldn’t we go, you know, see your folks?” Bucky murmured.

“Very proper,” Ana approved. “But Mr. Stark is at work, and Mrs. Stark is attending a luncheon. You can meet them at dinner tonight, after you’ve had time to freshen up.” She set a large platter on the table between them, piled high with sandwiches. “Which you can do once you’ve had something to eat.”

“Tell me Mom didn’t stick Bucky in the Cryochamber,” Tony begged, picking up one of the sandwiches, because Ana would nag until he ate _some_ thing.

Ana clucked her tongue at him, chiding him for the irreverent nickname. “And give him an excuse to be out and wandering the halls in the night? I think _not_. He’s in the Violet Room. Comfortable, with enough space between your rooms for propriety.” Ana winked, and Tony felt the back of his neck heat up.

They didn’t need to worry about propriety, since obviously there would be no midnight sneaking around, but Tony couldn’t help imagine it anyway: Bucky knocking delicately on Tony’s door in the quiet of night with some barely-plausible excuse, and they’d both pause and look at each other in the moonlight streaming in through Tony’s windows, and then--

“Tony?” Bucky and Ana were both staring at him, eyes wide with concern. “You back with us?” Bucky asked. “You zoned out there for a minute.”

“Uh, yeah,” Tony said. “Sorry, I just...” He shrugged and stuffed the rest of the sandwich into his mouth to stall for time. “Guess the drive down wore me out more than I expected.”

“It’s that university food,” Ana declared. “They don’t feed you nearly enough to keep growing boys healthy.” She nudged the platter toward Tony. “Have another sandwich, and then you have time for a nap before dinner.”

“A nap sounds good,” Tony admitted truthfully. He glanced at Bucky. “Yeah?”

“Sure,” Bucky agreed. “I’m still catching up from finals, anyway.”

Ana beamed. Tony tucked into another sandwich and tried not to wonder what he’d gotten himself into.

***

Bucky didn’t actually take a nap before dinner, but he stretched out on the bed in the suite he’d been assigned -- a whole suite, with its own bathroom! -- and texted with Steve a little. Then he took a shower -- he’d brought his own toiletries bag, but the elegant walk-in that was part of hissuite was already well stocked with anything he might need, and several things he’d never even heard of.

That made him wonder if the bedside table was pre-stocked with lube and condoms. But no, from what Ana had said, they probably wouldn’t want to make it any _easier_ for Tony to fool around. _That_ thought led to some mental images of what fooling around with Tony might be like, and he had to rest his forehead against the cool tile of the shower stall and think hard about his old history teacher for a while before he was fit to be seen in public again.

All of that used up an hour, maybe a little more.

Which left him plenty of time to try to figure out what the hell he was supposed to wear to dinner. His jeans and a t-shirt? A suit (not that Bucky had one)? Tony hadn’t exactly provided much in the way of instruction before they’d left school.

He was supposed to be courting. He’d want to impress Tony’s parents -- he _did_ actually kind of want to impress Tony’s parents -- so... something reasonably nice, anyway? Probably?

He snatched up his phone, but then got stuck staring at Google’s input bar. What was he supposed to search for? How did you boil down _dress code for impressing parents of an omega who doesn’t know you actually want to date him_ into a searchable phrase?

Bucky tried looking up what rich people wore to dinner, but that just got him a lot of links to high-end fashion and gossip/paparazzi sites. Somewhat desperately, he texted Tony to beg for help.

Ten minutes later, there was a soft tap at the door of the suite. Bucky opened it to reveal Tony, who was holding a handful of hangers slung over one shoulder and had a pair of ties draped over the other. “Your savior is here!” he announced, grinning, and then stopped dead, staring at Bucky’s chest.

Which was bare, because Bucky hadn’t known what to _put_ on it. “Uh,” Bucky said intelligently. He dashed for his open duffle on the bed and snatched up the first t-shirt that he could reach. “Sorry, I wasn’t--”

“No, no, no, it’s fine,” Tony said quickly, “no need to be sorry, I was just startled, is all. Should’ve warned you I was coming.” He slipped into the room and gave it a once-over -- looking for what, Bucky had no idea. The hangers over his shoulder held several shirts, and one sportcoat. Shit, Bucky hadn’t brought anything _that_ nice. Tony hung them all in the armoire and then turned around to survey Bucky’s clothes where he had spread them out on the bed.

“Okay,” Tony said, picking up a pair of khaki slacks. “This isn’t too bad. I can work with this. Put these on.”

“Not _too bad?_ ” Bucky said as he took the slacks into the bathroom to swap them for the jeans he’d put on out of the shower. “You’re lucky I packed anything besides jeans and sweatshirts.”

“Yeah, that’s my fault,” Tony admitted. “I wasn’t thinking. We’ll go out shopping tomorrow, get you a couple of things -- on me, obviously.” He grinned as Bucky came back into the bedroom. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to dress you in Tom Ford or Van Dyne.”

“I don’t know what that even means,” Bucky complained. “I just want to get through dinner.”

Tony pulled a shirt off its hanger and held it out. “Put this on.”

Bucky took it and looked down at it. “Uh. I appreciate the offer and everything, Tony, but I don’t think I’m going to fit into one of your shirts.”

“It’s not mine. It’s Rhodey’s. He keeps a few things here for when he visits. It’s convenient, means he can travel light.”

Rhodey was... closer to Bucky’s size, anyway. Bucky sighed and shrugged into the shirt, pulling it over his arms and shoulders. Tony stepped in close to settle the collar and started buttoning it for him. “Uh.”

“Relax, tiger, I’ve got you. I’m not going to let you look bad,” Tony said. He was close enough for Bucky to smell that sweet omega scent baking off his skin. His hands were busy on the buttons, fingers brushing against Bucky’s chest and stomach as they worked.

Bucky had to hold his breath and hope to hell that he didn’t pop a stiffie where Tony could see. “I could probably manage to button m’own shirt,” he pointed out, aiming for dry amusement.

Tony ignored that as he finished the job. He brushed a hand briskly down Bucky’s front, too fast to really be flirtatious, then stepped back half a step and looked Bucky over appraisingly.

Bucky could swear that he felt the heat of Tony’s gaze everywhere it lingered. “Little snug through the shoulders,” Tony said musingly, “but I don’t think it can be helped. It’s just dinner, though, so it shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”

Tony was dressed nicely, too, in slacks that hugged his perfectly-shaped bottom and a button-down shirt in a rich red that perfectly set off the warmth of his eyes. It was a very alpha style, with a high collar and heavy weave cloth. Omega shirts tended to have looser, lower necks and thinner fabrics.

Tony caught Bucky looking and made a face. “Haven’t been home to update my wardrobe,” he said. “I’m sure my mom has already made an appointment for me with the tailor, but this will have to do for a couple of days.”

“You look nice,” Bucky said honestly.

Tony grimaced again and reached for one of the ties, threading it through Bucky’s collar with deft, gentle fingers. “I’m sure my father will have something to say about it.”

It was hard to think with Tony’s hands brushing his skin, Tony’s breath ghosting along Bucky’s jaw. “I mean,” he managed after a moment, “if he’s going to come over all traditional on you, then really, it’s my approval you’d be after, anyway, right? As, y’know, your alpha.” He had to suppress a shudder of pure desire just saying it.

It didn’t help when Tony barked out a laugh. “If I didn’t think it would backfire on us terribly, I’d say we should put on a whole Alpha Values act for him.”

Tony laughing, eyes shining with that spark of mischief, was damn near irresistible. Bucky had to bite the inside of his cheek and force himself to take a step back to keep himself from doing something drastic, like kissing Tony. “I pass muster, yet?” he wondered.

Tony looked him over again, then nodded. “I’m willing to be seen with you in public,” he agreed. “Put on the jacket and let’s go.”

“You ain’t wearin’ a jacket,” Bucky whined as he pulled it on. Rebelliously, he left it unbuttoned.

“At last, an actual advantage to being an O,” Tony quipped. “Come on, I’ll show you the way.”

***

Dinner didn’t go as badly as Bucky had feared. Tony’s mother had sort of... fluttered at them, which seemed to confuse Tony at first and then made him roll his eyes.

Tony’s father had barely greeted them, all but flinging himself into his chair and keeping up a monologue of complaints about work and his business dealings. He’d paused a few times to snap out a few questions for Bucky -- what was he studying, did he plan to try for an advanced degree, what industry did he want to work in. Nothing really personal, not even “where are you from?”

He didn’t, as Tony had predicted, mock Tony for wearing alpha-styled clothes. He barely spoke two words to Tony at all. It made Bucky’s heart ache, though Tony seemed to take it in stride.

Bucky felt like he was vibrating on a wire. He couldn’t imagine how much worse it would feel if he were actually courting Tony. It would be worth it, of course, but... _so much worse_. Bucky ate the entire meal without really tasting any of it, which was a shame, because it looked amazing.

When the dessert plates were cleared away, though, Howard stood abruptly and fixed Bucky with a stare. “A few words, in my office.”

Bucky glanced at Tony, and received a thin-lipped smile and a barely perceptible nod. He’d hoped he would get a day or two to make a good impression with Howard before getting the parental lecture, but maybe there was something to be said for getting it over with. Bucky carefully folded his napkin and put it beside his plate, and stood up.

Howard’s office was actually an office, three monitors on the desk and a more than liberal scatter of papers and industry journals. It was saturated with Howard’s woodsy alpha scent. Howard seated himself behind the desk -- it was dark, polished wood, wide and imposing -- and folded his hands as he looked up at Bucky thoughtfully.

Bucky took a steadying breath. “I want to thank you again for inviting me to stay,” he said, because his mother had always told him it was best to start out polite. “Tony means a lot to me, and--”

“Don’t bother,” Howard interrupted.

“I’m... I’m sorry? What?”

Howard snorted. “You don’t have to try to pull the wool over my eyes with all that lovey-dovey, touchy-feely crap. How much?”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Bucky admitted, though he had a sinking suspicion.

“ _How much?_ ” Howard repeated, louder, as if Bucky’s hearing were the problem. “You’re here for a payout. How much will it take for you to be on your way?”

“Mr. Stark, I don’t know where you got that impression. I’m not here for a payout. I’m here for _Tony_.”

“Mr. Barnes, I can think of exactly two reasons why anyone would be interested in my son. And you didn’t need to come all this way just to get in his pants.”

_Like hell I didn’t_ , Bucky thought, irreverently. Not that he had done this to try to get into Tony’s pants, either. Bucky took another deep breath and made himself unclench his fists. “I’m sorry you have such a low opinion of Tony’s worth,” he said shortly. “He’s a loyal friend, a brilliant mind, a caring heart, and it would be a privilege and an honor to be his alpha.”

Howard leaned back in his chair, studying Bucky through narrowed eyes. “Hmph. Well, I can see you’re in it for the long haul.”

“As long as Tony will have me, yes.” Bucky was nearly shaking with fury.

Howard let out a dry laugh. “I’d almost forgotten what it was like to be young and passionate about everything. I have to admire your dedication. Go on, then. I’ve got work to do.” He leaned forward, then, pulling his keyboard toward him and blatantly ignoring Bucky.

Bucky hesitated another moment, off-balance, and then let himself escape Howard’s office. He resisted the urge to lean against the closed door as it closed behind him and slump with relief, but only barely.

Had it been some kind of _test_?


	3. Chapter 3

The Christmas tree was in what Maria called the “white parlor”, a moderately-sized room on the second floor that might have been comfortably cozy if it hadn’t been furnished entirely in pristine white. It was a real tree, but it was huge, the star on top barely missing the ceiling, and big enough around that it would probably take all their friends to join hands around it. Not that they could, because the tree was situated right in front of the window, of course, where anyone walking or riding by could see it and imagine how merry the holiday must be in such a wealthy house.

It looked like it had been professionally decorated, too, with the lights evenly spaced all over and the baubles and ribbons placed with near-mathematical precision. They were expensive-looking ornaments, glass and silver and gold, and the colors all matched, nothing clashing. There were presents under the tree, wrapped in white paper and tied with ribbons that matched the colors on the tree.

It looked slightly surreal, Bucky decided. Like he’d stepped into an episode of _The Twilight Zone_. Not a single pine needle had fallen to get stuck in the white carpet. No burned-out bulbs creating dark patches on the tree. No charmingly messy ornaments obviously made with childish hands.

He looked down at the gift in his hands, lumpy and awkward and wrapped in garish paper he’d gotten from the dollar store. Maybe he would just... keep it in his room, and wait to bring it out until Christmas morning.

Bucky made it as far as the door, then stopped. _No_. He turned and went back to the tree. On the far side, where it wouldn’t be easily visible to someone just passing by and thus immediately “fixed”, he moved an ornament one branch over, breaking that too-perfect symmetry. Feeling immensely better, he tucked his gift up under the branches, then went to find Tony.

***

Just being out of the house was like a breath of fresh air. Tony could see that Bucky felt it, too, in the way his shoulders relaxed and his head came up.

So for that, if nothing else, this idea of Bucky’s had been a good one.

Tony wasn’t sure about the rest of it, though. He dragged his feet as they approached the ice skating rink. It wasn’t Rockefeller Center, at least, but still... “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

“Sure, I’m sure,” Bucky said. “We always have a big skating party, back home, after everyone’s out of school for the holidays. Been doin’ it since I was like six.”

Tony’s stomach churned with guilt. Bucky was missing his family’s Christmas, for _Tony_. Sure, Bucky had said he wasn’t planning to go home for the winter break this year anyway, but if Bucky hadn’t agreed to help Tony out, he might still have found a way. Hell, if Bucky hadn’t agreed to do this, Tony might’ve bought the ticket for him outright. “Pretty sure I don’t count as a big skating party,” Tony said, trying to make it a joke.

“You’re some kinda party,” Bucky shot back, grinning, and Tony felt a little better. But not much.

“I... don’t actually know how to skate,” he admitted, as Bucky tugged him toward the ticket counter.

“How about roller skating, ever done that?” Bucky fished his wallet out of his pocket and waved off Tony’s protest.

“No, not even roller skating,” Tony said. There had always been something more useful and important for him to be doing than “messing around”.

“Good,” Bucky said. “They say it’s harder to learn ice skating if you already know how to roller skate.” He put his wallet away and led Tony over to the skate rental counter. “What’s your size?”

“Nine and a half, but I’m really not sure--”

“Hey, Tony.” Bucky put an arm around Tony’s shoulders. “It’s okay. I ain’t gonna let you fall.”

Tony wanted to protest some more, try to wriggle out of it, but Bucky was handing him a pair of skates and leading him to a bench where they could change into them, and Bucky looked so hopeful and happy that Tony swallowed his complaints.

He put on the skates and tried to stand up. His legs wobbled and his ankle twisted, and he immediately collapsed back down to the bench. “I can’t do this.”

Bucky stood right up, steady as a rock, the bastard. “Sure you can,” he said. He leaned over and offered both hands to Tony. “Come on, I’ll help. I’ve gotcha, promise.”

Tony let Bucky pull him up, wobbling on the narrow blades. “I’m going to fall and break something,” he predicted, “and everyone here is going to laugh at me.”

Bucky just grinned and shook his head. “I taught two sisters and four cousins to skate; I can teach you. It’s easy, just think of it as a practical application of physics. C’mon, look at my feet, the way I’m standing...”

Bucky led Tony toward the ice, never letting go of Tony’s hands, talking the whole time. He stepped onto the ice and began to skate backwards, very slowly. “Okay, just stand still and let me pull you for a minute, so you can get a feel for it first. Hang on to me, I’ve got you, I promise.”

No one else at the rink seemed to think it was weird or annoying that Tony was only just learning, even though he was clearly in the way, making the traffic divert around them. They passed him with friendly waves and encouraging comments, and a couple even applauded when Tony started moving his own feet, adding his own force to the equation of their movement. A few gave them knowing, indulgent looks, and Tony could practically hear them cooing, “Ah, young love...”

That made the back of his neck heat. They weren’t really dating. This wasn’t a date; they weren’t even _pretending_ to be dating right now. Bucky was only holding Tony’s hands because otherwise Tony was going to fall on his ass.

But Tony had to admit, it was kind of nice. Bucky’s attention was focused on him, and Bucky kept smiling at him all warm and encouraging and praising his pathetic efforts. And once Tony figured out how to keep his ankles from wobbling, it was actually kind of fun.

“That’s great, Tony, that’s perfect! You about ready to try a little on your own?”

“What? No! No, don’t let go!” Tony swayed and nearly fell over in panic.

Bucky caught his arm and held him steady. “I won’t go anywhere,” he promised. “I’ll be right by your side, and I won’t let you fall. Come on, you can do it.”

Cautiously, Bucky released his grip on Tony, but kept his hands out, ready to catch Tony if needed. Tony took a gliding step, and then another, and -- hey, he was doing it! There were six-year-olds who could probably overtake him, but he was still moving, and under his own power!

“Yeah! I knew you could do it!” Bucky cheered.

Tony made several laps around the rink on his own, Bucky hovering close, before he decided he needed a break, and made his way off the ice and hobbled back to their bench. “You should go have some fun,” he told Bucky. “Much as I appreciate your help, babysitting me isn’t what you came to do.”

“I like hangin’ out with you, no matter what,” Bucky protested, but it didn’t take much more prodding for him to head back to the ice without Tony, “just for a few laps”.

Without Tony to coddle, Bucky was a gorgeous skater, fast and graceful. He sped around the rink a few times, then started doing swoops and turns. He glanced back over at Tony once, grinning, and did an abrupt little pirouette before resuming his course.

Nearby, an older woman chuckled. “Make him work for it,” she said to Tony.

“I’m-- what?”

She nodded toward the ice. “Such an obvious alpha display. He certainly wants you to be looking at him. Make him work for it, though.”

_He’s not showing off for me_ , Tony didn’t say. Bucky was just having fun. Tony was incidental to that. But it was a nice thought. Tony looked back out at Bucky, and found Bucky looking his way again. Tony waved and grinned.

Yeah, okay, this had been a great idea.

***

The next night, Bucky talked Tony into going to a nearby park with a holiday lights display, mostly to get them out of that too-big house. After Maria’s chilly condescension and Howard’s outright cold disinterest, Bucky wanted to warm up by strolling through the frigid evening air and looking at twinkling lights.

Tony didn’t actually say so, but Bucky thought he was grateful for the excuse, too. His shoulders dropped from the defensive half-hunch they seemed to acquire as soon as they walked into the Stark home, only partially relieved when they were in the kitchen being teased and fed by Ana Jarvis.

The lights were pretty, though, and as Tony relaxed, they started pointing out particularly funny or elaborate displays, speculating on the construction and electrical throughout.

Bucky couldn’t stop sneaking looks at Tony, though. The soft, diffuse light made him seem to glow, his eyes nearly as bright as the displays themselves. His smile was delighted and wondering, his laugh warm and full of life.

Bucky thought he’d do a lot to put that look on Tony’s face as often as possible.

Tony caught him looking. “I have something stuck in my teeth?”

Maybe the dim lighting was enough to keep Tony from seeing the blush climbing the back of Bucky’s neck. “Nah, just...” he shrugged. Impulsively, he reached out and caught Tony’s hand in his. “I like seein’ you so relaxed and happy.”

Tony looked down at their hands and then back up at Bucky, head cocked curiously. For a dizzying moment, Bucky thought he would lean in for a kiss. He swayed closer, and his eyes were on Bucky’s, and his mouth parted, just a little--

And then a family with a trio of young, excited kids walked by and Tony jerked back, eyes widening, and the moment passed. But Tony didn’t pull his hand free, and when they resumed walking, he walked closer to Bucky, near enough that they bumped together from time to time, for Bucky to feel the warmth of him right through their clothes.

***

Just after lunch on Christmas Eve, Bucky asked for half an hour of quiet and privacy to call his family. Tony certainly didn’t want to come between Bucky and his family, and besides, it would be the perfect time for Tony to accomplish a mission of his own.

“Meet you in the media room when you’re done?” Tony suggested. He left Bucky at the hall that led to the guest suite. He half-jogged across the house and skidded into the kitchen. “Ana?”

She was sitting at the table, slicing mushrooms, but she looked up with a wide smile. “Hello, sweetheart. Come and keep me company. Where’s your handsome young man?”

“He’s calling his folks.” Tony took a steadying breath as he sat across from her and put his hands flat on the kitchen table. The wood was streaked and scarred and worn, comforting in its imperfection. “I want to help make dinner,” he said.

Ana burst out laughing. Tony scowled at her, and after a moment, she stopped, eyes widening in surprise. “You’re serious?”

“Of course I’m serious,” Tony huffed.

She smiled, sly. “Is this to do with your young man?”

“He has a name,” Tony said irritably, and then slumped. “Sorry. I’m just...”

“You want to impress him,” Ana said, nodding knowingly. “He seems like a fine alpha, and a good man. He’s intelligent and polite, which is good. He makes you laugh, which is better.” Her eyes twinkled. “He’s not hard on the eyes, either.”

“Ana,” Tony complained. “I need... I wasn’t supposed to be an O. I don’t know anything a good O is supposed to know.” Up until this trip, Tony would have sworn he didn’t care one bit about conforming to society’s expectations and being a “good O”, either.

“You’re not going to learn how to cook in an afternoon,” Ana said gently. “Christmas dinner is not an appropriate starting point. Besides,” she added, reaching across the table to pat his wrist, “I remember what happened that time you tried to help me bake cookies. And the time I asked you to baste the chicken for me. And the time--”

Tony groaned and put his head in his hands. “I’m hopeless, is what you’re saying.”

Ana laughed again, heedless of his despair. “You might be,” she admitted. “You don’t care enough about it.”

Tony whined. “I really, _really_ like him,” he admitted, his hands muffling the words.

“I know,” Ana said. She patted his wrist again before withdrawing to resume her slicing. “I can tell. But I don’t think you need to show off any traditional omega talents for him. Just be yourself, Tony.”

“Oh, sure, like _that’s_ ever worked.”

“He already likes you,” she said. “I may be old, but I have eyes. I’ve seen the way you look at each other.”

_You’re only seeing what you think you should see_. Tony bit his lip to keep from saying it aloud, and just shook his head.

“He likes you,” she repeated firmly. “He came home with you, didn’t he? Whatever it is he likes about you, it’s something he liked long before now. You just have to keep being _you_ , sweetheart. It’ll all work out.”

Tony sighed. “Or it won’t,” he mumbled.

“Or it won’t,” she agreed, pragmatic as always. “But if he can’t appreciate you for what you are, then he doesn’t deserve you anyway.” That came out a little sharply, Ana in full-on mother hen mode, bristling at the merest suggestion that someone might not find Tony utterly delightful.

Tony gave her a wan smile. “Thanks, Ana.”

She smiled warmly. “You’re welcome. Tell you what: you can peel those potatoes for me, and I’ll say you helped with those.”

Tony huffed out a laugh; Ana _hated_ peeling potatoes. Usually, she made her husband do them. “Yeah, okay, deal. Hand me the peeler.”

***

“Hey,” Bucky said, when Becca answered the phone.

“Hay is for horses,” Becca responded promptly.

“Barns are for horses, too,” Bucky shot back, and swallowed back a lump in his throat at the familiar call-and-response, so old and worn that it had stopped being funny over a decade ago, and then looped back around to funny again.

“Mom never did get me those riding lessons she promised,” Becca mused. “Is this the duty call?”

“If you want to call it that,” Bucky said, grinning. “There are _some_ people there that I actually _want_ to talk to. Put one of ‘em on the phone, why don’tcha?”

“Maybe I don’t feel like it,” Becca said, and Bucky couldn’t hold back his laugh. Becca joined in, then said, “How’s college life?”

“Okay, I guess. A lot of studying. But I like hanging out with my friends.” Bucky flopped on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, imagining Becca doing the same on the couch in the family room, next to the old landline phone.

“Is it horrible now, with everyone gone for the break?” In the background, Bucky could hear his mom say _Becca!_ , scandalized.

“I actually came home with a friend for the break,” Bucky said, trying to sound casual about it. “So I’m not alone. It’s okay.”

“Ooooooh. A _friend_ , or a _friend-_ friend?” Becca was such a brat, and Bucky couldn’t stop grinning at her obnoxious teasing.

“A friend,” Bucky said, but Becca was only two years younger than him, and had always known how to read him.

“Liar,” she accused. “Is that why you haven’t texted me for like, _weeks?_ Who is it? Tell me everything!”

“I’m not tellin’ you anything. You’ll just blab it all over.”

Becca gasped. “James Barnes, have you found an _omega?_ ”

“No,” Bucky said, but it sounded weak even to his own ears. “It’s not like that. Becca, listen--”

There was a rustle on the other end of the line, and then-- “James?”

Bucky swallowed, hard. “Hey, Mom.”

“What’s Becca going on about?” his mother demanded. In the background, Becca was demanding for Mom to hand the phone back to her. “Is there someone _special_ in your life, James?”

Bucky had never been able to lie to his mother. “Sort of. I mean. We’re friends, and I... I really like him. But I don’t...” He glanced toward the door and lowered his voice. “I don’t think he thinks of me that way.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Mom sounded almost offended.

“I’m just... I don’t think I’m what he wants.”

Very gently, Mom asked, “What _does_ he want?”

Bucky threw his free arm over his eyes. “I don’t know.”

“So find out what he wants. You never know. You might be right at the top of the list.”

Bucky thought about Tony’s hand, warm in his; that moment when they’d nearly kissed. “Maybe. When we’re back at school, maybe. I don’t want to make it too weird, if he’s not interested.”

Mom sighed. “James--”

“C’mon, Mom,” Bucky whined. “I don’t want my hopes dashed right at Christmas. Just... let it go for a little bit.”

“For a little bit,” Mom allowed, a promise and a threat.

“Thanks,” Bucky said, relieved, and deliberately changed the subject. “Tell me what Uncle Karl’s horrible Christmas sweater looks like this year.”


	4. Chapter 4

The house was quiet, that afternoon, so Tony and Bucky settled into the media room for a _Die Hard_ marathon. “They’re Christmas movies,” Tony pointed out. “It’s only appropriate.”

They wound up on the big, soft couch with a bowl of popcorn between them and a blanket for their feet, because the media room was situated right under the Cryochamber and suffered from some of the same heating issues. And if, as the movies progressed, they happened to be moving closer together, that was probably just because of the temperature, right? The popcorn bowl migrated from the cushion between them, to Tony’s lap, to the table, wholly ignored.

And the way Bucky’s arm stole around Tony’s shoulders was probably just for show, in case Ana walked in to see if they wanted more popcorn or fresh drinks, but it was comfortable and warm and cozy, and Tony let himself snuggle in against Bucky’s side and pretend that it was real. Tony’s throat closed up if he thought about how this was almost over, but in the meantime, it was a little bit perfect.

So of course his dad had to come along and ruin the whole thing.

Howard barged into the room in the middle of the climactic battle and turned off the projector.

“Hey!” Tony complained, “we were watching that!”

“I don’t have time to laze around like some worthless slob,” Howard snapped. He threw down a folder on the table in front of Bucky. “Here.”

“What’s that?” Tony asked as Bucky leaned forward to pick it up.

“Exactly what you wanted,” Howard told Tony. “Entirely against my better judgment, I’m letting you choose your own alpha for your first bond.”

Startled, Tony looked down at the page that was revealed when Bucky opened the folder. _Certificate of Bond_. Tony almost choked. He’d never in his wildest dreams expected Howard to capitulate so easily. He’d expected it to take weeks of arguing for Howard to finally give up in disgust and wash his hands of the whole thing.

“Oh my _god_.” Tony sat up, kicking the blanket off. “Did you seriously just, what, sell me into fucking _bond?_ Like this is the god damn _stone ages?_ ”

Howard looked annoyed, like he always did when forced to interact with Tony. “I should have guessed you’d turn out O just from the constant histrionics and drama.”

Tony snorted. “When you’re an alpha, it’s called _asserting yourself_ , but now that I’m producing a slightly different hormone mix, it’s _histrionics_. Nice.”

“I did not _sell you_ into anything. This is a perfectly standard short-term bond contract,” Howard said.

“That we didn’t _ask for_ ,” Tony pointed out. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe we weren’t _ready_ for a contract?” He didn’t dare glance over to see how pissed Bucky was about this, not until Tony had actually gotten them _out_ of it.

“Not _ready?_ ” Howard actually rolled his eyes upward, as if praying for patience. “Did you think I was about to let you go into your first heat _without_ an NDA and some kind of legal protection?”

That... was exactly what Tony had thought. Or rather, had _not_ thought, because he’d spent the last several weeks avoiding even thinking about what would happen when he went into heat. Inasmuch as he’d thought about it at all, he’d assumed he would just turn up at the school clinic for whatever symptom abatement they could offer.

“Not to interrupt,” Bucky said, “but I think there must be something missing, here.”

Tony’s head turned so fast his vertebrae crackled. Bucky had the folder open on his thighs and was thoughtfully turning through the pages.

“You what?” Howard demanded.

“I mean, obviously I’m no expert,” Bucky said calmly, turning another page, “but all this is just to protect Stark Industries from my interference -- NDAs for any proprietary things Tony might mention, spending limits, waiver of rights on anything he invents or innovates while we’re together--”

“I’m familiar with the standard short-term bond articles, yes,” Howard said impatiently.

“And there’s a couple of paragraphs in here that protect my interests,” Bucky allowed. “But where’s the stuff about protecting _Tony?_ ”

Howard scowled. “What?”

“You know. Right to terminate contract, access to contraception, adequate medical care, all that stuff.” Bucky looked up, finally, looking not at Tony but directly at Howard, his eyebrows raised slightly and the back of his neck flushed.

Howard crossed his arms. “Were you planning on denying Tony any of those things?”

“Of course not.”

“Then I hardly see the point.”

“The point is that Tony should be _assured_ of those rights,” Bucky said, with a hint of heat, as if it actually mattered. As if he were actually considering signing the damn thing, and not just inventing a damned clever reason _not_ to sign it.

“They’re not legally mandated clauses,” Howard said impatiently.

“I can’t believe any parent would cosign their child into a contract _without_ them, in this day and age,” Bucky said, his hands bunching up into fists against his thighs.

“Would you have put those clauses in if I’d let you pick my alpha?” Tony wondered.

Howard gave Bucky a look that Tony knew all too well. It meant _now look what you’ve done_.

“You wouldn’t, would you?” Tony pressed. “You’d have picked some giant asshole who you wanted to butter up for negotiations and handed me over like a party favor, no skin off your nose if they were planning to lock me in a cage for the next three years--”

“It’s only a one-year contract,” Howard defended. “You’re older than most new Os.”

“Because only one year of abuse makes it acceptable?” Tony had jumped to his feet.

Bucky reached out and caught Tony’s hand, his thumb stroking along the side of it soothingly. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” he said firmly. “I’ll be happy to sign these protections for Stark Industries, but regardless of my feelings for Tony, I won’t sign off on the bond contract until the Omega’s Rights section is laid out in full.” He offered the closed folder back to Howard.

Howard stared at Bucky, flint-eyed, and Bucky just met that gaze cooly. Tony was impressed. Not many people could withstand Howard’s glare. Tony himself had only about a fifty percent success rate.

But it was Howard who gave in first. He took the folder and strode out of the room, back stiff.

Tony collapsed back onto the couch with a big whoosh of a sigh. “That was _brilliant_ ,” he breathed. “I had no idea how I was going to back us out of having to sign that thing!”

Bucky gave him an unreadable look, then leaned back into the cushions, putting some space between them again. “You really should make sure you’ve got those Rights clauses, when you do get ready to sign a bond.”

“Yeah,” Tony said, though the thought left him cold. The whole point of a bond was the protection and care of the omega. Having to protect a bonded omega _from their alpha_ was chilling. Tony wasn’t a naive fool; he knew why those protections were needed -- but until very recently, it had never occurred to him that they might apply to _him_. “I’ll... I’ll be sure to check for it.”

***

Christmas Eve dinner seemed less like a family celebration and more like a pageant in honor of Maria’s postcard-perfect ideal, as if the whole thing were being filmed for public consumption and therefore had to be well-ordered and picturesque. Bucky found it horrific. On the plus side, both Tony and Howard seemed to accept that they were absolutely not permitted to argue or bicker for as long as Maria remained at the table, draped in enough jewelry to stock a small store.

But the polite, press-ready smile Tony had plastered on made Bucky want to break something. He managed to get a brief glimpse of Tony’s real smile by telling a couple of corny Christmas jokes that he’d looked up ( _What do you call Santa Claus when he runs out of money? Saint Nickle-less! What do you call him when he takes a break? Santa Pause!_ ) but it didn’t last long.

“Now, isn’t this nice?” Maria said. Bucky resisted the urge to give her an incredulous look. “It’s good to be a real family once in a while, don’t you think?”

Howard made a very soft sound that Bucky thought was probably a suppressed snort.

“I think it’s time, dear, don’t you?” Maria continued. She turned to Bucky as if confiding a great secret. “Howard gives the most beautiful speech every year. It’s very moving.”

“I’m sure it is, ma’am,” Bucky agreed diplomatically.

Howard looked as if he weren’t any more impressed than Bucky, but he rose to his feet, a trifle laboriously. Bucky glanced at Tony, but Tony was, to all appearances, utterly fixed on his father.

“Another year gone,” Howard said. “Not everything has gone according to plan--” His eyes cut to Tony for a second, and then returned to focusing on the elaborate centerpiece. “--but that’s life, isn’t it? We will soldier on, because we are _Starks_ , and Starks are made of iron. We don’t give up. We turn our failures into triumphs!” He glanced at Bucky. “Though I’m not sure how that’s going to work at the moment--”

“Howard,” Maria chided gently.

“Triumphs!” Howard repeated, swaying a little with the force of it. “Anyway, I got that new light tank contract under wraps before the news cycle hit, so that’s a couple of years to figure it out and knock some sense into--”

“ _Howard,_ ” Maria said. “It’s _Christmas_.”

Howard let out an unintelligible mumble, then straightened his shoulders. “To Christmas, then,” he continued, picking up his wine glass. “And to you, my dear.” He sloshed the glass in Maria’s direction, and then drank while Bucky was still waiting for Howard to add even the slightest nod to Tony’s presence.

“To Mom,” Tony said softly.

Bucky wanted to protest, but Tony caught his eye with a quick shake of the head. Bucky sighed and tipped his own glass in Maria’s direction. “Mrs. Stark,” he added.

It wasn’t much later that Howard got up from the table and staggered out of the room entirely. Bucky couldn’t help letting out a soft sigh of relief.

Tony smiled at him thinly, then pushed back his own chair. “Merry Christmas, Mom,” he said, in the most normal tone of voice he’d used since dinner had started. “I’m going to take Bucky down to the kitchen for dessert.”

Maria smiled, a little sad and wistful. “All right. Merry Christmas, boys.”

Tony circled the table and took Bucky’s hand, tugging him out of his seat and then out of the dining room. The air in the hallway felt lighter and cooler, somehow, and Bucky took a breath deep enough to make his lungs ache.

“Sorry about that,” Tony said. “I was going to warn you, but I had no idea where to even start.”

Bucky squeezed Tony’s hand. “Nothing for you to be sorry about,” he promised.

Tony smirked a little. “Bet you’re glad now you thought of an excuse not to sign that bond contract, huh?”

_No_ , Bucky wanted to say. _I’m sorry I didn’t sign it immediately so I’d have an excuse to take you away from here_. His chest ached, and it was all he could do to summon a little smile for the joke. “We don’t really need to go have dessert,” he said. “I’m not hungry any more.”

“Oh, me neither,” Tony said, inexplicably cheering up. “But we still have to go to the kitchen.”

“What for?”

Tony grinned at him, and it was like the sudden light of the entire Christmas tree being turned on all at once, bright and warm and beautiful. “You’ll see.”

In the kitchen, they found Ana, of course, preparing some sort of dish that smelled like sugar and meat. “French toast casserole,” she told Bucky, “with bacon.”

“I thought you and Mr. Jarvis have the day off tomorrow,” Bucky said.

Ana smiled at him beatifically. “We do. Which is why I’m preparing this now. I’ll just pop it in the oven in the morning before we leave, and the oven timer will take care of the rest.” She wiped off her hands. “But that’s not why you’re here now, is it?” She winked at Tony, who beamed back at her. “Go on, take a seat, I’ll call Edwin and get them.” She disappeared into the pantry.

“Come on,” Tony said, tugging Bucky to the kitchen table. “We do this every year. It’s fun.”

“Do what?”

“Smash oranges.”

Bucky must have heard that wrong. “I’m sorry, you what?”

Tony laughed. “Smash oranges.”

“You... smash oranges,” Bucky repeated, not sure what to do with that.

Tony unbuttoned his cuffs and started rolling up his sleeves. “Yep.”

Bucky copied him, but he still couldn’t quite wrap his head around it. “Why?”

“Ana likes to pretend it’s an old tradition brought over by her immigrant mother or something, but I’ve googled it, and never found a mention of it.”

“Spoilsport,” Ana chided, coming back into the kitchen with a washtub basin full of oranges, ripe and fragrant. “It’s more fun if I say it’s an Old Country tradition.”

“If I promise to pretend to believe you, will you tell me why, really?” Bucky asked.

“Because it’s fun,” Ana said. “And messy.”

Jarvis followed her in, his own shirtsleeves already rolled. “When Anthony was much younger,” Jarvis explained, giving Tony a small but warm smile, “he needed a break from the... festivities, sometimes.” Bucky could well believe _that_. He needed a break from Maria’s “festivities”, himself. “He came down once when he was, oh, three or four, and I told him he could help me juice the oranges for breakfast. I went off to get the juicer, and when I came back, he was sitting on the floor with a good half-dozen oranges smashed, utterly drenched in the juice.”

Ana laughed, her eyes sparkling. “But his mood was much improved! Ever since, we’ve had a good orange-smashing after dinner every Christmas Eve.” She set the basin on the table between them, and gave them each a tray to catch the juice and a large bowl for the pulped fruit.

Bucky looked at Tony. Tony picked an orange out of the basin and handed it to Bucky, then selected another for himself.

“I’m supposed to... what? Bang it on the table? Squash it in my hands?”

“Whatever works for you,” Tony agreed. He set his orange on the tray, then stood up, leaning on it with all his weight until the rind split and a torrent of juice flooded out. When he sat back down, the orange was considerably flatter, and the air was suddenly fragrant with the tart, sweet scent of the juice. Tony tossed it into the bowl. “Your turn.”

Bucky considered the fruit in his hand, then tightened his fist around it, squeezing. It resisted more than he expected it to, and he had to squeeze harder, and harder still, until suddenly the rind cracked and tore, and Bucky’s hand was coated in the juice. He looked down at it, the pulp clinging to his skin. “That’s... oddly satisfying,” he admitted.

Tony grinned and picked out another one. “Told you it was fun.”

Ana leaned over to examine Bucky’s orange. “Nice and strong,” she approved, with a wink at Tony.

Tony blushed, which was adorable, and turned his focus pointedly on the fruit, much to Ana’s evident amusement. Even Jarvis was chuckling.

By the time they were done, Bucky’s fingers ached and his hands and arms were sticky up to the elbow, and he was fairly certain that he’d utterly ruined his pants. But the air was warm and sweet-smelling, and Tony was laughing, all the tension and heartache of the day melted away. There wasn’t much Bucky wouldn’t do, for that.


	5. Chapter 5

When Bucky made his way to the kitchen the next morning, the promised French toast casserole was on the table, still steaming and filling the room with the scent of maple and cinnamon. A big scoop had been taken out of it, right from the center. There was a pitcher on the table as well, in a shallow pan of slowly-melting ice. Bucky peered into it. For an instant, he thought it was orange juice, and then the smell of champagne hit and he realized it was pre-mixed mimosa.

Bucky was still wondering whether Ana had used the juice from the oranges they’d smashed when Tony came in. “Hey, you’re up! Merry Christmas!” He had an empty plate that made it obvious who’d made those inroads into the casserole, and an empty champagne flute dangling negligently from his fingertips. His cheeks were rosy enough to suggest he’d already refilled it a couple of times.

“Merry Christmas, Tony. How many have you had?”

Tony huffed. “Not enough, I can tell you that. Come on, you’ll want to catch up before Mom decides it’s time for presents.” He snared a fresh flute from a sideboard and offered it to Bucky.

Bucky took it on autopilot, fighting a vague sense of unease. “What are your parents going to think if I turn up to Christmas tipsy?”

“Honestly,” Tony said, picking up the pitcher and filling Bucky’s glass before refilling his own, “they’ll probably be too drunk to notice. Welcome to the Stark Family Christmas.” Bucky must have had some kind of look on his face, because Tony grimaced. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you’d rather be... almost anywhere else, really.”

That was sort of true, but the idea of leaving Tony alone to face this dismal mockery of a celebration made him feel physically ill. “Hey, no,” he said gently. He took the pitcher from Tony and set it back on the ice, then took Tony’s hand. “I’m here because I want to be with you. Wherever you are.”

Tony’s nose wrinkled adorably. “There’s no one else here. You don’t have to do that.”

“Would I have come along on this whole thing if I didn’t care about you at all?” Bucky challenged. His heart skipped and sped up; it felt entirely too close to revealing the truth.

But Tony was smiling now, small and shy and sweet, and that only made Bucky’s heart race faster. “I guess not,” he admitted. “I just... I know it’s a lot.”

“It’s not ideal,” Bucky agreed. “But I’m here for you, no matter what. Okay?”

It was hard to tell if Tony was actually blushing or if it was just the alcohol flush. “Yeah, okay.” He looked up into Bucky’s eyes, and for just a second, Bucky thought he would sway forward, catch Bucky’s mouth on his, press their bodies together...

Tony lifted his glass between them, and his mouth curved into something sad and wry. “But you’re still going to want to have a drink or two before you deal with my parents.”

“Right,” Bucky said, and hurriedly took a sip to cool his own blush. The orange juice tasted sweet and fresh, and the champagne sparkled along his tongue festively.

Then he found a plate and helped himself to some of the casserole, because it looked like the sort of thing that would taste best while it was fresh and warm. Tony perched on a stool and watched him as he ate, bemused and indulgent.

Bucky teased Tony into talking about Ana and Jarvis, who, from what Bucky could tell, had done most of the work of raising Tony. At least those were mostly happy, fond memories. Bucky laughed at the outrageous stories and Tony’s ridiculous attempts to mimic Ana waving a spoon around threateningly, and thought that even if he couldn’t do anything else, at least he’d given Tony a few moments of joy.

“Goodness, you two are certainly making merry,” Maria said, coming into the kitchen. She didn’t sound very happy about it.

“Well, it is Christmas,” Bucky said lightly, aching at the way the light in Tony’s eyes was snuffed out.

Maria didn’t comment. Her lips thinned when she looked at the casserole, and then she picked up the pitcher and looked into it with a raised eyebrow. “It’s almost empty,” she observed.

Tony slid off his stool. “I’ll make another batch.”

That seemed wrong, somehow. Tony was seventeen; he shouldn’t really be drinking at all, much less be expected to prepare drinks for everyone else. Of course, mimosas weren’t exactly a complicated recipe. “I’ll help,” he offered.

Maria’s lips pressed together in something that was probably trying to be a smile. “Bring the pitcher out when you’re done, and we’ll open gifts.”

“You bet,” Tony said, already leaning into the refrigerator where Bucky saw there were at least five bottles of champagne chilling.

Maria nodded once and left the room.

Tony pulled out one of the bottles and a handful of oranges. “Here,” he said, handing the oranges to Bucky. “There’s a juicer on the counter, over there.” He closed the fridge with his hip, already peeling the foil off the bottle of champagne.

Bucky found the juicer and a knife to cut the oranges in half. The sweet-tart smell of the juice made him think of the previous night, when they’d been laughing and happy. How did they get back there? He couldn’t see the path from here, for some reason. He couldn’t even figure out how to go back fifteen minutes to when they were trading stories.

They made up the pitcher of mimosas in silence, and then Bucky followed Tony through the house to the big parlor where that enormous Christmas tree stood, dominating the room with its lights and tasteful but oddly loveless decorations.

No one else was in the room yet, so when Tony set the pitcher down on the sideboard, Bucky reached out and caught Tony’s hand. “I got you,” he promised quietly. “It’s gonna be okay.” And then, because Tony was still looking quietly miserable, he added, “I’m sorry in advance for my present. It’s the lamest.”

At last, a little light and warmth returned to Tony’s eyes. “Nope, mine is,” he predicted.

Bucky smiled nervously. “I hope--”

“Let’s get this song and dance over with,” Howard muttered, slouching into the room. Where Tony seemed merely tipsy -- face flushed, pupils wide and not entirely focused -- Howard was beyond a doubt all the way into _drunk_. “I’ve got to finish packing. Why your mother thinks it’s a good idea to take an early morning flight every year, I have no idea.”

“Because the one year we booked an afternoon flight, you complained the entire time about all the children,” Maria said briskly, sweeping into the room. “So now we fly early, with the business travelers.”

Howard grunted and went to the sideboard to pour himself a glass.

“Now that’s settled,” Maria continued, “let’s open our presents.” She perched on the edge of the sofa, not so much _sitting_ as _posing_ , her back unnaturally straight and her legs delicately folded and tucked to one side, entirely camera-ready. “Anthony, hand them around, would you, darling?”

Howard snorted derisively as he flopped onto the sofa, nearly tipping Maria off it again. “Don’t know why you need any presents,” he grumbled at Tony. “I’m paying for your education and continuing to let you sponge off me instead of putting you to work. You’d think that’d be enough.”

Maria let out a soft, tinkling laugh, as if Howard had been teasing, though Bucky couldn’t help but notice that the merriment didn’t reach her eyes. Tony didn’t react at all, but Bucky couldn’t catch his gaze. He just kept picking up what looked like professionally-wrapped gifts from under the tree and distributing them into little piles.

There were fewer gifts than Bucky had been expecting, given the Starks’ wealth. Possibly it was cynical of him to suspect that the precise number of gifts corresponded to some aesthetically correct number according to Maria’s PR specialist, but he couldn’t quite help the thought.

Bucky winced to see his own small, less-than-perfectly-wrapped package on top of Tony’s immaculate stack, but Tony actually smiled when he saw it. “You know, you didn’t have to get me anything,” he said.

“I know.” Bucky grinned at him. “I been plannin’ this one for a month.”

Tony looked startled at that, but it was true. Bucky had just expected to hand it over to him before they parted ways for Christmas break instead of actually being able to watch him open it.

What the Starks’ gifts to each other lacked in numbers, they certainly made up in cost. Maria cooed over gem-encrusted jewelry, a designer purse, and a hand-carved ring stand. Howard opened and rather begrudgingly admired a collection of silk pocket squares in a rainbow of colors, a bottle of high-end scotch, and a pair of leather shoes.

Tony’s gifts from his parents were mostly clothes -- dress shirts in omega-traditional cuts and colors, and matching socks and handkerchiefs. Some cologne that promised a ‘light, floral scent that enhances and underscores the natural appeal of an Omega mark.” He thanked his mother politely, but it was obvious -- at least to Bucky -- that he was seething, even while Maria preened and fussed over the need to rework entire Tony’s wardrobe now that he’d presented.

“I dunno about the _entire_ thing,” Bucky put in, taking Tony’s hand and squeezing it in what he hoped was a comforting manner. “Tony’s always looked -- and smelled -- just fine to me.”

That got him one of Maria’s thin-lipped smiles and a, “Well, that’s all good and well at _school_ , but he can’t very well go out in _proper society_ like that.” But at least most of her attention was off Tony for a moment. Tony squeezed Bucky’s hand back and gave him a small but genuine smile, and that was all the thanks Bucky needed.

Tony’s gift from Bucky was a picture that Bucky had taken a little more than a month ago. Tony had fallen asleep at his desk during a midterms study/work session, and Bucky had gotten the phone up just in time to catch a picture of DUM-E pulling a blanket up over Tony’s shoulders. He’d had the picture printed and then gotten Steve’s help to make a frame for it by welding together a bunch of nuts and bolts and screws and other scraps.

Next to all the elegant, expensive gifts, it looked uncouth and childish, but Tony stared at it for a long minute, and when he finally looked at Bucky again, his eyes were wet and shining. “It’s fantastic,” he said, and kissed Bucky’s cheek. “Thank you.”

Bucky hadn’t been left out of the awkward gift-giving. The Starks had given him a tie -- he was pretty sure it was watered silk and worth more than he made in a month at his crappy part-time job, and actual business alphas would probably call it a “power tie” for its bold red color and subtle embossed pattern. He had absolutely no use for it.

Bucky thanked them, but of course it was Tony who saved the moment. He slid the narrow box out of Bucky’s fingers and lifted the elegant cloth out with casual grace. “Well, at least Mom picked out my favorite color for you,” he said with an odd quirk of a smile, and he leaned close to slide the tie around Bucky’s neck. Bucky could feel the heat of Tony’s breath as he deftly flipped the cloth over and wound it around.

It wasn’t until Tony tapped his chin and said, “Look up, now,” that Bucky realized he’d been watching Tony’s mouth, the miniscule movements of lips and tongue as Tony worked. He felt himself flush a little, and hoped that anyone who noticed would chalk it up to the mimosas.

Finally, Tony brushed his hand briskly down Bucky’s front and sat back to look Bucky over proudly. “Good color on you, too. It’ll be perfect for interviews.” He grinned, and when Bucky smiled back, Tony said, “Now open mine.”

Tony’s gift to Bucky was in a decorative box, the sort with the lift-off lid. “Don’t shake it,” Tony warned as Bucky picked it up. It was heavier than it looked. Bucky glanced at Tony, but Tony just looked on expectantly, his bottom lip caught in his teeth, as if he were a little nervous.

Bucky lifted off the lid, then gently pulled away the tissue paper on top to reveal... a toy robot. He lifted it out, carefully, and turned it over in his hands. “It looks almost just like DUM-E,” he observed, smiling.

“She’s not as smart as DUM-E,” Tony said quickly. “I mean, not that DUM-E is _smart_ , but -- processing power is a thing, there was only so much I could cram into something that size. But, I dunno, you seem to kind of actually like the hunk of junk, so I--”

“Wait, it’s not just a model? It -- _she_ \-- actually works?” Bucky cradled her closer, not wanting to drop her.

“Sort of? I mean, she can’t do anything really complex, but she can probably be trained to plug your phone in or fetch your shoes or... simple stuff.” Tony was still worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth, looking anxious. “I hope it’s okay. I started working on her before I--” He glanced at his parents. Howard wasn’t paying attention to them at all. Maria just looked slightly perplexed. “Before we started, you know, dating.”

“You-- Really?” Tony had planned this before he’d even presented? For _Bucky?_ Maybe... Maybe Bucky’s feelings weren’t as one-sided as he’d thought. “She’s perfect, Tony. Thank you.” Before he could second-guess himself, he leaned over and kissed Tony’s cheek. “I love her.”

_I love you_.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut-averse readers -- this is the chapter with the smut in it! If you want to skip it, stop reading when it hits your tolerance level and jump down to read maybe the last few paragraphs for the warmfuzzies.

Tony woke the next morning feeling utterly terrible. His head ached with a pounding throb, he was sweaty and clammy, something was cramping deep in his abdomen, and his skin felt prickly and sensitive all over.

Howard had no patience for people who insisted on coddling their hangovers, though, so Tony levered himself out of bed despite the way the little bit of sun filtering through his curtains made him want to scoop his eyeballs out with a spoon. He swayed on his feet for a moment and had to grab the edge of his dresser to keep from falling over. His muscles all seemed to be in revolt, twitching and shuddering under his skin.

Finally, he was steady enough to make his way to the bathroom and grab his robe. The plush fabric felt like burlap against his skin, like he was sunburned in addition to being hungover.

Tony gritted his teeth and knotted the belt, and made his painstaking way down the stairs. Howard and Maria would give him their now-traditional “behave yourself” and “make yourself useful” speeches before they left, and then he could crawl back into bed to sleep off the worst of it.

By the time he made it to the bottom of the stairs and out into the foyer, they were already there, luggage stacked around them. Maria already in her coat and fussing with her scarf. She looked up as Tony came in. “Oh, good. I thought I’d have to send someone to wake you.” She left off winding her scarf to give Tony a critical once-over. “You know where Jarvis keeps his hangover remedy, don’t you?”

“Yeah, Mom. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure you will.” She glanced up toward the ceiling and clicked her tongue. “I just don’t know about leaving you here, unsupervised.”

Tony’s eyebrows lifted. “You’ve been leaving me here unsupervised for _years_.”

“She means _unchaperoned_ ,” Howard grunted, pulling on his driving gloves.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Mom? You know anything we want to get up to, we’re perfectly capable of doing at school as well as here.”

Howard huffed. “And likely have, already.” He speared Tony with a sharp look.

Tony just looked back, giving away nothing (or so he hoped).

Finally Howard rolled his eyes and picked up the two suitcases. “I don’t have time for this. I don’t care what shenanigans you get up to as long as you’re staying on top of your studies. Get the door, Maria.”

Maria stepped in to give Tony a perfunctory hug and an air-kiss that wouldn’t disturb her makeup. “Be good, darling.”

“You know me, Mom,” Tony said vaguely. “Have a good trip.”

He watched from the parlor window as the car made its way along the drive. The gate swung slowly open, and the car turned out onto the street. Tony watched it until it was out of sight and the gate had swung closed again. There was a hot rock of tightness, low in his gut, that seemed to throb in counterpoint to his aching skull.

He had planned to go back to bed, but maybe he ought to detour to the kitchen and raid the first aid kit for some Advil.

Of course Bucky was already in the kitchen, standing hunched over the coffee maker. He looked up as Tony came in and smiled, even though his eyes were a little bloodshot, too. “Hey. Coffee’s almost done, if you want a cup.”

“I would kill for one,” Tony said. Bucky reached up into the cabinet for a second mug, and Tony winced. “They’re gone,” he said. “You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

“Oh, well, that’s... That’s good, I guess.” Bucky fidgeted with the mugs on the counter, turning them, lining them up just so, until the coffee finished. He offered the first cup to Tony.

Tony took a big, fast gulp, the heat of it searing his tongue momentarily. But at least it scraped off that fuzzy morning-after sensation and warmed him up.

Warmed him a little too much, maybe. He was sweating again. Tony wiped the sleeve of his robe across his face.

“You okay?” Bucky asked, suddenly much closer than he had been. “You look a little flushed.”

“Fine,” Tony said. “A little warm -- isn’t it a little warm in here to you?”

Bucky frowned and pressed the back of his hand to Tony’s forehead. “Oh, Jesus, you’re burning up! Here, sit down.” Bucky nudged Tony into the nearest chair. He brushed the hair back from Tony’s face, and Tony leaned into the touch for a moment before jerking back.

“Shit, if I’m sick, you don’t want to be here,” he said. “I can call you a cab, or--”

“Tony, I’m not going to leave you here to be sick by yourself!” Bucky said firmly. “Come on, what do you take me for?”

“Someone with sense?” Tony guessed.

“Nah,” Bucky said, grinning. “C’mon, let’s see if we can find you some Gatorade or something and get you back to bed.” He slung an arm around Tony’s shoulder, friendly and solicitous.

Bucky smelled particularly nice today. Tony took a step, and then another, and then he had half a second to wonder what felt so strange before a gush of slick warmth flooded his ass. “What the fuck-- Oh. Oh _no_.”

Bucky froze, his nostrils flaring and his eyes widening. “Oh my god. You’re not _sick_ , you’re--”

“Don’t say it,” Tony begged. “I can’t be in heat. It’s too early.” First heat didn’t generally hit omegas until six months or so after presentation; he should have _months_ left. Maybe it was because he’d presented late, his scent glands behind the game despite the rest of his body chugging merrily along with its developments. “Oh, _fuck_.”

Bucky’s eyes were already dilated, his body responding to the heat signals Tony’s body was producing. “Tony...”

Tony backed away several steps, unnerved by the intensity of Bucky’s stare. “Oh god--“

“Hey, hey, Tony, don’t--“ Bucky held up his hands as if in surrender. “I’m not going to do anything,” he swore. “Nothing you don’t want, I promise.”

Tony laughed shakily. “If I’m in heat, then pretty soon I’ll want it all,” he pointed out. “So I’m pretty sure it’s what _you_ don’t want that matters.”

“No,” Bucky said, shaking his head. He backed up against the wall and put his hands behind his back. “Tony, I... I already want it all. I’ve wanted it all for _months_. But I’m not about to take advantage of you bein’ in heat to take anything you don’t want to give me.”

“Wait, what do you mean, _months_?” Tony demanded. “I only presented--”

“It ain’t about you bein’ an O,” Bucky said impatiently. “It’s just _you_ , Tony. It’s always been you. I never cared how you presented. If you’d been an A, I would still feel the same.”

Tony gaped at him. “But...”

“Doll, believe me, this ain’t gonna change the way I feel, no matter what happens. So you tell me, right now, before that heat gets too strong to ignore, what you want, and what you _don’t_. You want me to go away, I’ll do that, if it makes you feel safer. Or I can take you somewhere, to someone you trust. Or call someone to come help you. Or--”

“What if I asked you to stay?” Tony asked. Challenged, really.

That intent look was back. “Stay,” Bucky repeated. “You mean, like...”

“With me,” Tony said. “As my. My alpha.” Bucky was staring at him, blinking, as if he couldn’t quite process what Tony had said.

“Are you, I mean, Tony, I don’t want you to regret this.”

Tony sighed. “I’ve spent almost this whole trip trying to figure out how to talk you into taking me on for real,” he admitted. “I can’t imagine anyone else I’d want to be with me. I’m not going to regret this, I promise.”

Bucky searched Tony’s face, then leaned close, scenting along the base of Tony’s neck, letting his breath out with a shiver that Tony hoped was pleasure. “You smell like... like heaven,” Bucky murmured, taking another slow, deep breath.

Bucky was so close that Tony couldn’t help but breathe in his scent, sweet and spicy and somehow soothing. He shuffled closer, and closer still, until he was pressed against Bucky’s chest. “God, Bucky, _touch me_.”

Bucky’s hands closed gently on Tony’s shoulders, thumbs stroking back and forth idly, and even that little bit of touch sent fire racing through Tony’s veins until his mouth fell open and he was panting for breath. “Tony, honey?” Tony hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes until they snapped open to find Bucky looking at him in mingled awe and hunger. “Can I... Can I kiss you?”

Tony couldn’t even answer that in words. He surged upward until his mouth found Bucky’s, and Bucky’s arms slid around his shoulders and his back, pulling him even closer.

Bucky’s mouth was hot and wet, his tongue slick and sweet when it slipped through Tony’s lips. Bucky groaned at that first taste, arms tightening around Tony almost desperately, as if he were afraid that Tony might slip away -- or that he might wake up. Bucky kissed like there was only one thought in his head, and that thought was: _Tony_.

It was heady and wonderful and distracting and Tony couldn’t help but give himself up to it entirely, his body melting against Bucky’s like a stick of butter left too long in the sun. Except for his cock, which was rapidly growing as hard as Tony could ever remember it being. Tony twisted his hips, and found Bucky in much the same situation.

Eventually, Bucky pulled away with a breathless whisper of, “Oh, _god_.” Tony smiled and took a step back, and tried to say something confident and suave -- and promptly collapsed when his legs refused to support his weight.

“Whoa!” Bucky lunged to grab him before he could hit the floor. “You okay?”

Tony felt overheated and dizzy, almost like being drunk again. “I think,” Tony said carefully, “you should kiss me like that again. After I’m sitting down.”

Bucky grinned. “I can see you’re gonna be good for my ego.”

“Fuck you,” Tony said happily. He hooked his arm around Bucky’s shoulders and pulled himself laboriously to his feet. “Or maybe just fuck me.”

Bucky snorted out a laugh, then bent and scooped Tony up into his arms, princess-style. Tony yelped in surprise, and then relaxed into it, laughing and nuzzling up into Bucky’s neck, seeing out the scent of him. “Point the way,” he told Tony, grinning.

Tony grumbled. “You know where my room is.”

“Not your room,” Bucky said patiently. “The cold room. The... what did you call it? The Cryochamber.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah, that’s...” The near-frigid air would feel _wonderful_ on Tony’s too-warm skin. “You’re brilliant. Let’s do that.” Tony pointed, and Bucky carried him that way.

***

Bucky could barely believe it. Tony was the man of his dreams, the _omega_ of his dreams, and he would have done almost anything to help Tony through this heat, whatever Tony asked of him, even if it meant the exquisite agony of staying at Tony’s side and denying the utterly sweet call of that heat-scent.

But he had Tony in his arms instead. Tony had kissed him and was pointing the way to a bedroom and Bucky was going to get to lay Tony out on a bed, bury his face against Tony’s neck and breathe in that perfect scent and taste that beautiful skin and touch-- _oh god_. Bucky swallowed and focused on not tripping over his own feet as he climbed the stairs.

Tony hadn’t been kidding about how cold the Cryochamber was. Bucky damn near expected to see his breath by the time they were halfway across the room. But the way Tony sighed in relief meant that it was worth it. Bucky could huddle under the covers.

Or just curl up close to Tony; he was burning up. Bucky hadn’t realized that _heat_ was such a literal term.

Bucky laid Tony gently on top of the bed and Tony immediately starfished out, his eyelids fluttering shut in an expression of pure bliss. His legs spreading out made his bathrobe fall almost all the way open, showing off the paler skin of Tony’s inner thighs and not _quite_ revealing his cock or ass, but open enough that Bucky could see Tony wasn’t wearing any boxers.

Christ, Bucky wanted to rip that robe right off Tony’s body -- but if he did that, he was afraid he’d lose all semblance of control, and before he did _that_... He looked around and opened the drawer on the little bedside table. The bathroom had been so well-stocked already, maybe...

There was nothing in the drawer but a little book of puzzles, the sort you gave to kids for long drives -- word finds and crosswords and codebreakers -- and a couple of pens. Bucky whined deep in his throat and clambered over the bed -- over Tony -- to look in the other drawer.

“Honey?” Tony’s voice held a distinct whine.

“Condoms,” Bucky said, and it came out a growl.

“Oh. Yeah, sure.” Tony sounded unconcerned and a little hazy, and the heat smell baking off him was going to drive Bucky _mad_.

He yanked open the drawer, and -- oh, thank god. Several unopened boxes. He grabbed the first one to come to hand and nearly fumbled it while he was checking to make sure it hadn’t expired and -- more importantly, really -- was the type that could accommodate an alpha’s knot.

It was, thank god. He all but ripped open the box and pulled out the little string of condoms. “Your dad may not have planned on you being an O, but I think maybe _someone_ did.” Then he turned to look at Tony and all but had a heart attack.

Tony was staring at Bucky hungrily, big-eyed and pupil-blown, lip caught in his teeth, and his robe had fallen open across the chest to reveal a gorgeous flat expanse, brown nipples swollen and peaked. When he saw Bucky looking at him, he smiled and stretched out his arms, reaching for Bucky. “Alpha...”

The word hit Bucky like a punch to the gut and he sucked in a sharp breath. He caught Tony’s hand and pressed his mouth to the palm. “Tony, doll, Christ, _look_ at you. You’re so pretty like this. I wanna unwrap you like a Christmas present.”

“Yes,” Tony said. “Bucky, please, I need...”

“I know, baby, I know,” Bucky soothed, “I’ve gotcha. I’m gonna take care of you.” It was a bit of a bluff; he’d fooled around with Os a few times, but never one in heat.

But he was determined to do his best for Tony, anyway. He leaned down to kiss Tony again and got lost in it, swimming in Tony’s heady scent, mapping the contours of Tony’s mouth. Tony clutched at his arms and Bucky groaned, nosing his way along Tony’s jaw.

Bucky stroked the side of Tony’s neck, pressing delicately at the swollen scent glands there, then dragged his hand down to Tony’s chest, stroking his thumb along Tony’s collarbone.

Tony was panting already, undulating his body and tugging at Bucky’s clothes. “Bucky,” he complained. “Off.”

“Whatever you want, babydoll,” Bucky promised. He let go of Tony for long enough to strip off his shirt, then went back to touching and stroking that smooth, feverish skin. He lightly brushed over one of those gorgeous nipples and Tony cried out, arching into the touch. Bucky couldn’t resist any longer; he leaned down to suck it into his mouth, testing and tasting it, flicking at it with his tongue until it was hard and pebbled, and all the while, Tony was writhing under him, gripping at Bucky’s shoulder and hair, whimpering with desperate need.

“You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous,” Bucky groaned as he pulled away. He tugged the belt of the robe loose and let it fall open, and sat back a little to just look.

Tony rolled his hips and let his legs fall open again, inviting. “Like what you see, alpha?”

_God_ , yes. Tony was bronze-skinned and lithe, flushed from the heat, his hair a tangled black cloud around his head as it tossed on the pillows. His cock stood up away from his body, dark red and leaking. “God, Tony,” Bucky whispered.

Bucky slid down the bed and dragged his tongue up the length of Tony’s cock. Tony cursed and jolted as if he’d been shocked, his hips lifting and his scent growing even stronger with fresh spurts of slick and precome. “Bucky, oh, _fuck_ , please, I need it, I need you,” he begged.

“I’ve got you, babydoll, just let go,” Bucky promised. He took another lick of that pretty cock, and ducked his head to sample the slick. A loud, ragged moan filled his ears before he realized it was his own. He pushed Tony’s leg back to better display that hungry hole and dove in, lapping at it like a cat licking at cream.

He pressed his tongue in and Tony’s hole gave way for it, opening easily, _hungrily_ , as Tony gasped and shivered. “Bucky, ohgod, please, please, I need you in me. Please, Bucky, _alpha_.”

“Okay, Tony, let me just...” He scrabbled for the condoms and ripped into one with shaking hands. He rolled it on as quickly as he could and took his place between Tony’s knees. “Hang on, baby, I’m right here.” He pushed in slowly, not wanting to hurt Tony, but Tony’s body opened up for him immediately and pulled him in.

Tony’s head was thrown back, chords standing out on his neck, his hands clenching at Bucky’s shoulder and back. He arched into it, impaling himself on Bucky’s cock, his mouth falling open. Bucky leaned in and took a taste of that mouth, tongue teasing at Tony’s lips until he lifted his head to kiss Bucky back, sloppy and uncoordinated and needy and _perfect_ as Bucky slid all the way home.

“Oh god, baby, you feel so, so damn good,” Bucky groaned. “You okay?”

“Feels, _god_ , so good,” Tony panted. He rolled his hips, urging. “You can move, _please_ move.”

“You sure, babydoll? Don’t want to hurt you.”

Tony shook his head. “Not hurt. ‘M sure.” He looked up at Bucky and holy _shit_ , his pupils were so blown that Bucky could only barely make out a thin rim of that pretty whiskey brown. “Want you to knot me, alpha.”

Bucky couldn’t stop a little jolt of his hips, and Tony’s eyes fluttered again. “More,” he begged -- no, _demanded_. “Give it to me now.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Bucky curled his hands around Tony’s shoulders and tucked his face into the curve of Tony’s neck, and started to thrust, working slowly at first, and then harder, spurred on by Tony’s soft cries and gasps.

Tony wrapped one leg up around Bucky’s hip and braced the other so he could match Bucky’s rhythm, bringing them together with an audible slap of skin on skin. His voice spiraled upward, growing tenser and more frantic, and he clung to Bucky so hard it hurt, but it was the best kind of hurt.

Tony’s head tossed back and forth, and his movements got jerky and uneven. “Bucky, I’m--”

“Go on, baby,” Bucky urged. “Go on and come for me.” He shifted his weight and slipped his hand between them to help Tony along, but it was hardly needed; he’d only stroked Tony’s cock a handful of times when Tony cried out and wet heat spilled over Bucky’s hand. “God, you’re so amazing,” Bucky praised him, but his voice came out hoarse and shaky. The base of his cock felt hot and hard like a stone, and he dragged in another deep breath of Tony’s sweet, glorious scent, and slammed home as deep and hard as he could manage as he came, and came, and came _more_ , that tight, hot place throbbing with each pulse, and getting harder and hotter.

“Oh, o--oh, _oh_ ,” Tony gasped. “Oh, shit, that feels--”

“You okay, doll?”

“It’s so _weird_.” Tony wriggled his hips, and Bucky felt the tug, but remained seated, his knot pressing out against Tony’s body, locking them together. “I never thought it would feel like _this_.”

Bucky bit his lip. “Is it bad? I mean, if you don’t like it--”

“It feels _great_ ,” Tony said. “It’s... Like I can finally think again.”

Bucky propped himself up on one elbow and lightly stroked the side of Tony’s face. “I’m sorry.”

Tony pushed Bucky’s hair out of his face and looked at him in confusion. “For what?”

“I wanted our first time -- if we got to have one -- I wanted it to be... slow and sweet and--”

“Romantic?” Tony suggested. He grinned, and then lifted his head enough to kiss Bucky gently. “Been thinking about that a lot, have you?”

Bucky felt himself flush. “Maybe.”

“Don’t worry.” Tony twined his arms around Bucky’s neck and nuzzled into Bucky’s neck. “I’ll be in heat for at least another day or so. We can try again in a little bit.”

Bucky hadn’t even thought of that, somehow. “Oh, god.”

Tony laughed. “Though to be honest, sweet and slow is probably going to be easier once I’m _not_ in heat any more.” The smile faded and he bit his lip. “You know, assuming this isn’t just a heat thing.”

“It’s not just a heat thing, Tony.” Bucky flicked the end of Tony’s nose with a fingertip, and Tony relaxed a little, smiling again. Bucky tucked his arms around Tony tightly and rolled until he was on his back and Tony was sprawled on top of him like a blanket. “Merry Christmas to me,” he said, unable to suppress his own smile. “I got a tie, a robot, and a smart alec omega.”

Tony snuggled in, humming smugly. “Best Christmas ever.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, as always, to tisfan for cheerleading!
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](https://27dragons.tumblr.com), [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/27dragons), or [dreamwidth](https://27dragons.dreamwidth.org)!


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